Judge Mullaney a treasure

Thursday

May 29, 2014 at 6:00 AM

By Dianne Williamson

When we were kids, one of the first things we noticed about my best friend's father was his funny left hand.

The fingers were gnarly and frozen into a claw-like grip, and we would steal fascinated glances when he wasn't looking. But he was never self-conscious about his hand, frequently using it to gesture when he was speaking with the neighborhood kids, which was often.

Years later, I would learn that Paul V. Mullaney was shot in the arm during the Korean War, the third wound he would suffer as a Marine first lieutenant, and his nerves were so badly damaged that he almost lost the whole arm.

"Did you know they call it a monkey hand?" he told me Wednesday. "I guess a monkey can't touch his fingers with his thumb, and neither can I." He laughed. "It's gotten me out of a lot of work. I don't shovel very well."

But shovel he does, along with gardening and yard work and brisk walks that would tax men years his junior. Paul Mullaney has aged the way he's lived, with enviable grace, and now this 94-year-old student of history is planning a symbolic stroll that evokes memories of past wars and local heroism.

On June 7, the retired judge plans to walk from Union Station to the Korean War Memorial and up Front Street to the back of City Hall, where the Paul V. Mullaney Plaza will be dedicated in honor of his service to his city and country. Mullaney twice left Worcester from Union Station to fight in foreign wars, and his exploits earned him three Purple Hearts, the Silver Star and Bronze Star.

"I don't know why they came up with my name," he said, predictably. "There are so many veterans in Worcester that I'm sure are more deserving. I was in City Hall for a while, so that might have given me the edge."

The fact that he's truly trying to figure it out only adds to this man's enormous appeal. Born in a Main South three-decker, the whip-smart son of a local mailman is a graduate of the College of the Holy Cross and Boston College Law School. Mullaney was mayor from 1963 to '65, a city councilor 1960-1967, and a district judge from 1978 until retiring in 1991.

He and his spirited wife, Sallie, who died in January, raised nine kids in a crowded house near Newton Square. I grew up around the corner and was pals with his daughter Moira. Her dad was a touchstone, a second father to lots of neighborhood kids and unofficial advisor to our parents. The moms were smitten — with his thick shock of white hair and twinkling blue eyes, his hand was his only physical imperfection. But the dads didn't mind, because even the men adored Judge Mullaney.

He took Moira and me to get our first library cards; trips to the drive-in included as many kids as could squeeze into the station wagon. He was always patient and I never once saw him angry, even when we "borrowed" the family car and drove it into a tree on Newton Avenue.

In 1991, I wrote a column about Paul Mullaney when he retired from the District Court bench, recalling that he'd drive us to Notre Dame Academy and fill our sleepy heads with Worcester history — the people, the streets, the buildings.

"Sometimes, because we were 14, we would roll our eyes or giggle," I wrote. "Always, though, because it was Judge Mullaney speaking, we listened."

His oldest son, Paul Jr., said his father never saw himself as a hero but is "deeply appreciative" of the upcoming honor.

"He'll be walking by a lot of history," he said. "The city is to be congratulated, for giving this to him while he's alive."

Paul Mullaney is a Worcester treasure and a real-life Atticus Finch — gentle, kind, gracious and wise. He may belong to the city, but the honor of knowing him is all mine.